The Turtle Who Never Was
by Hyaroo
Summary: Michelangelo gets the "It's A Wonderful Life" treatment as two spirits show him what the world would be like if he'd never been born... but something's wrong here. Why does it look like everyone's better off without him?
1. The Two Spirits

* * *

**THE TURTLE WHO NEVER WAS**

**Based on _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_**  
**by Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird**

**Disclaimer: All TMNT-related characters are the property of Mirage Studios. So there.**

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE:**  
**The Two Spirits**

* * *

Michelangelo couldn't sleep.

His bed, normally a nice and comfy place to rest, was at the moment the most uncomfortable and horrible resting place in the world, somehow managing the impressive feat of being too hard and too soft, too hot and too cold, all at the same time. The blankets felt itchy and clammy, and the pillow was just as comfortable as a rock. A _wet, slimy, moss-covered_ rock.

For the umpteenth time, he tried shifting around in the hope of finding a slightly more comfortable position to sleep in, only to be rewarded with a new wave of nausea and a new surge of the throbbing headache, the two aspirin he'd taken earlier apparently counting for nothing. He fought back the urge to retch, knowing exactly how much more comfortable that would make his bed, and lay still until the nausea eased up just enough that he wasn't in immediate danger of hurling.

Man, he _hated_ being sick. And he _especially_ hated being sick when all the members of his family had all grown tired of playing nurse to him and had left him alone to "let him get some sleep," sleep that stubbornly refused to come to him no matter how many sheep he tried counting.

_Some family they are,_ he thought, feeling very sorry for himself. _I'm __**suffering**__ here, and they don't even care._

Well, all right, if he was to be honest with himself, they _had_ been spending the better part of the day waiting on him hand and foot, but the point was that they weren't doing it anymore and now they were all angry and annoyed with him, something that just made him feel even worse. Maybe he had been a _little_ demanding of them, but how often was it that he had the opportunity to have his brothers at his beck and call? Could they really blame him for wanting to make the most of it in his misery?

Raphael had been the first to lose his temper, of course -- his red-masked brother had always been short on patience and long on sarcasm. After having gone to the kitchen five times in one hour for "just one more glass of water," Raph had returned with a bucket filled with icy-cold water and threatened to pour it over Mike unless he quit his nagging.

"What do I look like, your nanny?" he'd snapped. "Want me to tuck you in too? With your blankie and teddy bear, huh? Hey, how about a bedtime story: 'Once upon a time, there were four mutant turtles, and one of them didn't wanna go to sleep, so his brother strangled him to death! The end!'"

Donatello had held out longer, he'd had enough after the twelfth time Mike had asked him for a TV in his room.

"Mike, I'm busy," he'd sighed. "I need to fix that sewer alarm system, and I don't have the time to move TVs or re-wire them every time you want one moved. If you're that bored, read something. Just stop acting so melodramatic! You're perfectly capable of managing on your own for a few hours."

And Leonardo had gone into full 'lecture' mode the last time he'd been called in to fluff Mike's pillow.

"I know you're sick," he'd said, his voice stern. "But you're not _that_ sick. It's just a touch of the flu, nothing life-threatening. You can't expect us to keep bending over backwards for you, especially not when you keep bugging the shell out of everyone! You always do this!"

Mike snorted as he thought of Leo's lecture. B_ugging the shell out of everyone, he says. I'd like to see how he'd cope with feeling this miserable. That goes for Don and Raph too... melodramatic and childish, my foot. What, I can't spread a little misery if I want to? I spread __**happiness**__ all the time. Whenever I feel happy, I do my darnedest to share that feeling with those guys, and nobody thanks me for that either. And first none of those ungrateful jerks will pay me back by bringing __**me**__ a little happiness here in my misery, and now they're telling me I can't even --_

He was interrupted in his mental ravings by a sudden knock on his door, and the entrance of Splinter.

"Michelangelo," said the rat softly, stepping in through the door and approaching Mike's bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like sh-- not so good," said Mike, catching himself at the last moment. Splinter was not the sort to tolerate swearing from his sons, even when said sons were sick and miserable.

"Would you like some more herbal tea?" said Splinter, ignoring the unsaid swear word.

"Ugh, no thanks. I'd just throw it up again..." Mike suddenly felt a little guilty about his mental rant. Maybe he'd been a little unfair -- after all, Splinter was here and offered tea; even if Mike at the moment couldn't bear the thought of actually drinking it, it did show that at least _someone_ cared...

"Very well," said Splinter. "I have spoken to your brothers, Michelangelo. I know that you do not care for having to stay in bed for so long, but it is the only way that you will get better."

"I know," Mike sighed. "It's just that I get bored, and when I'm bored I feel even sicker."

"Michelangelo, your brothers do have other things to do," said Splinter with a gentle reprimand in his voice. "Much as we might wish otherwise, the world around us does not stop moving when one of us is feeling sick."

Being lectured by Splinter was not like being lectured by Leonardo. Splinter seldom nagged or got all "fearless leader" about things the way Leo did, but he was an expert on, with just a few choice words, making you understand exactly what it was you had done wrong, why it was wrong, and why you should feel bad about it. And where you could blow off Leo, you couldn't with Splinter, because you knew he was generally right. Mike sighed again.

"You are not to disturb any of them again today," said Splinter. "You have tried their patience enough for one day. Besides, you need rest, and you are not going to get it by calling everyone into your room every five minutes."

"Okay, Master Splinter," said Mike, feeling even more miserable than before.

"Good. Now, do try to sleep."

As Splinter made his way back towards the door, Mike called out to him. "Master Splinter... one question?"

"Yes?" The rat turned in the doorway, looking at him.

"Am I annoying? I mean, when I'm not sick, too?"

Splinter didn't answer at first. He just looked at Mike with an unreadable expression for a few moments before saying: "Why are you asking me this, Michelangelo?"

"No reason," Mike muttered, deciding not to repeat Leo's earlier words about him _always_ bugging the shell out of everyone.

"Ah." Splinter didn't ask any further questions, but it was apparent from the look in his eyes that he'd probably guessed what Mike had been thinking. "I believe you have been called that several times before, especially by Raphael. I have never seen any indication that this have bothered you before."

"Well... it doesn't. Not really. It's just that -- "

"Then do not let it start bothering you now, my son. Try to sleep."

_He didn't say I __**wasn't**__ annoying..._ Mike realized as the rat exited the room and closed the door behind him, shutting the world out.

* * *

_All right,_ Mike thought, closing his eyes and leaning against the disgusting pillow again. _Maybe I __**am**__ annoying. So what? I don't care. At least I know how to have fun. That's more than what I can say about __**them**__._ Another wave of nausea hit him at this point, but he managed to keep it down, swallowing several times until his throat hurt like crazy. _I wonder if April and Casey think I'm annoying too,_ he mused. _Or Leatherhead, or Usagi, or Angel... or professor Honeycutt... but not Klunk. I'm pretty certain Klunk doesn't think I'm annoying. Or at least he's good at pretending he doesn't, seeing as how I'm the one who feeds him..._

"You are more than annoying, Michelangelo. You are worthless."

The voice came suddenly. Mike's eyes flung open and stared out in the room, gasping in disbelief when he saw its source:

Right there in front of him stood a tall, menacing-looking man, clad in a full body armor which sported so many sharp metal blades that one careless swing of the arm could have decapitated anyone foolish enough to stand near enough. The man's face was completely hidden between a metal mask; only a pair of cold, merciless eyes were visible, staring at Mike with a mixture of contempt and amusement.

"Shredder?!" Mike yelped, sitting up in his bed and staring at his unexpected guest. Instinctively, he reached for the nunchucks on his belt, only to remember a split second later that he wasn't in the habit of wearing his belt or weapons in bed. "What -- what are you doing here? How did you find the lair? _What have you done with my family?!"_

"Your concern for your family is touching," Shredder spat. "But you needn't worry about them. I am here for you, and you alone."

Mike leapt out of bed, only barely noticing that he could all of a sudden move without feeling pain or nausea, and that his feet made no sound against the floor as he landed in front of Shredder, ready for battle.

"Oh, please," said Shredder. "I could tear your shell from your body with no effort at all if I had wanted to. But I'm not here to fight, and you are in no condition for it anyway."

"Oh yeah?" Mike taunted, doing his best to quell the fear that welled up in him. "Bring it on, metalface!"

"Are you stupid as well as worthless?" Shredder barked in a tone of voice that Mike had never heard before, not from him. "You are in no condition! Or haven't you noticed that you are no longer in your body?"

"What are you talking ab--?" Mike cut himself off as he cast a quick glance back on his bed and saw...

_...and saw...!_

An icy chill went through him. There, lying in his bed, with closed eyes and deathly pale against the vividly-colored sheets, was Mike's own, silent and unmoving body. Mike stumbled back, unable to take his eyes off the ghastly sight, and fell on his butt, vaguely registering through his panic that he felt no pain as he landed on the floor, nor did he make a single sound.

"Your body is still lying there in your bed," said Shredder in a tone that almost seemed like a mocking parody of Leo's 'lecturing' voice. "Your spirit has left it. Do you understand now, or should I break it down into one-syllable words?"

"Whah -- buh -- am I dead?!" Mike managed to say, staring at the other him. "No... no, it can't be... I'm just dreaming! Yeah, that's it, dreaming. Hey, Mike, now's a good time to wake up! Rise and shine! Up and at 'em, buddy!"

"I am afraid you will find that your efforts are in vain, Michelangelo," came a new voice from just behind him.

Mike turned his head to find himself staring into a very familiar, very kind and very hairy face.

"Master Splinter?"

The old rat smiled. "No. I am sorry, Michelangelo, but I am not the Splinter you know. Nor is _he_ --" (he motioned with a furry hand towards the Shredder, who was still standing motionless and watching the scene with obvious disdain) "-- the Shredder you know. These are merely the forms you perceive us in."

"...what?" said Mike.

"Let me explain." Splinter -- or the thing that looked like Splinter -- extended a hand and helped Mike up on his feet again. "You currently have no body. Your spirit retains your general form in appearance, because that form is what it is most used to, and it retains some sense of the physical laws your body is bound by, mainly as a force of habit. In the spirit realm, your own will and perception influences the world around you to a much higher degree than in the physical, mortal world. My colleague here and I... we are your guides here."

"Guides?"

"Indeed. Let us just say that we appear to you in these forms to give you something, someone, you are familiar with. You may call us 'Splinter' and 'Shredder' if you wish. It might make things easier on you."

Mike felt his head spin. Or possibly it was just what he _perceived_ as his head that was spinning, if what the Splinter copy had said was true. It was just a little much to take in all at once, and Mike wasn't at all sure he _wanted_ to take it all in either, not if it meant what he thought, what he feared, it meant.

Still... he had to ask. "So what's this all mean? I _am_ dead?" he said, surprised at how small his own voice sounded.

"Not yet." Shredder looked at him. "But were it up to me, you would be. You are a complete waste of space, as far as I'm concerned."

"You are not dead, Michelangelo," said Splinter kindly. "You are at a crossroad. Your final fate, or destiny, will be decided in these hours. And it will be up to you to make the decision."

"Final fate? You mean I gotta choose whether I wanna live or die?!" Mike laughed out loud in relief. "Well, that's the easiest choice I've ever had. I wanna _live_, of course!"

"Why?" Shredder fixed him with his eyes. "Didn't you just now think how nobody cared about you, and how you were only an annoyance to everyone you knew?"

"Well..." Mike paused.

"Face the facts, Turtle. Your brothers and your master would be better off without you. They are the ones who accomplish things. They are the ones who matter. What have _you_ ever accomplished, besides running around like a fool and fouling up the lives of everyone unfortunate enough to know you?"

"Hey, you're talking to the Battle Nexus champion here!" Mike protested.

"A fluke. A stroke of blind luck. Don't even try to convince yourself otherwise. Besides, what did you accomplish with that victory, apart from constantly bragging about it afterwards and annoying your family with it? Your master Splinter, and his master Yoshi, both used their victories to create inspiration in others. You just use it to boast your own greatness, even though you know that greatness to be fake."

"Uh, I'm the Turtle Titan! Big superhero here!"

"A joke of a superhero who would be better off leaving the crimefighting to the real heroes, you mean."

"Um... and I helped take down the Shredder -- the _real_ Shredder!"

"Your part in that was minor at best. The others would have done just as well without you."

"...I delivered all those Li'l Orphan Alien toys to Brown Street children's home?"

"Oh, _please_. "

Mike turned to Splinter. "Ya know, not to nag or anything, but could I have another guide? Someone who isn't _him_? I don't think he's gonna work out."

Splinter smiled. "I am sorry, Michelangelo --"

"How about Silver Sentry? I wouldn't mind having Silver Sentry as a guide."

"Getting rid of me wouldn't make the truth any less true," said Shredder. "Deep down, you know just as well as I do that you are by far the most worthless, the most insignifigant member of your family. You do not matter in the least, you never have, and you never will."

Now now," said Splinter calmly. "Everyone matters to the ones they are close to. Michelangelo is no exception."

"Michelangelo is a waste of space," Shredder repeated. "He has never, and will never, do anything worthwhile. Were it not for the foolish notions of family loyalties, he could die today and it would change nothing for anyone."

"It is not a question of what--" Splinter began.

"Excuse me? I'm standing right here, you know," said Mike, starting to feel rather ticked off. This entire situation was just a little too weird, even for him. "Look, it doesn't matter what you guys say. I know I'm not worthless, and I do want to live, so why don't you reverse whatever it was that you did to separate my spirit from my body and let me get on with getting better. Please?" he added as an afterthought, figuring it might be a good idea to at least feign politeness.

Shredder turned again to regard him, eyes cold and harsh behind the metal mask. "Still foolishly refusing to acknowledge what you know to be true? What do you say we find out for certain?"

"Find out for certain? What'chu talkin' about, Willis?" said Mike in his best Gary Coleman voice.

"It's very simple: I claim that you don't matter. You and the rat claim that you do. What I'm proposing is that we take a look at the world such as it would have been without you."

Mike blinked. "You can do that?"

"We are in the spirit world," said Splinter. "As I explained to you, everything is a matter of perception and will. With enough practice, anything is possible. This is how I was able to touch you, for example, even though you are currently an intangible spirit."

"Whoa," said Mike, caught up in the moment. "Hey, is that why I'm still able to walk on the floor, instead of sinking through -- no, wait a minute!" he interrupted himself. "I'm not interested in seeing any me-less worlds! Besides, could you get any more cliché than that? I've seen it on TV, like, a million times! We watch _It's A Wonderful Life_ every Christmas -- well, Raph doesn't, 'cause he says he never could get past the title, but... And it's not like that's the only example! Everyone does the _'the world would be different if I was never born'_ thing! Kermit the Frog did it, Garfield did it, Donald Duck did it, and Silver Sentry did it in one of the issues of Justice Force, but he says that _that_ was just something the scriptwriters made up and that it never actually happened, so --"

"Michelangelo!" said Splinter, sounding so much like the Master Splinter Michelangelo knew and loved that the Turtle instinctively shut up.

"I knew it," said Shredder in an annoyingly self-satisfied voice. "He's too cowardly to face the truth."

"I'm not a coward!" Mike snapped. He took a deep breath to steady his voice, and then, after a quick mental debate with himself, nodded. "All right, fine! You're on! I'll grin and bear with the clichés if it it gets you to shut up! Uh -- but I'll be all right, won't I?" he added, casting a glance at his bedridden body. "I won't die while we're away or anything? Or get lost in some alternate reality where I was never born?"

"You have our word that you will not," said Splinter. "That would rather negate the entire point of you making a choice to begin with."

"Great," said Mike. "Just had to ask. So, how do we do this? Click our heels together three times, or...?"

"No, nothing so complicated," said Splinter. "Watch."

And, almost without warning, the room started to spin around them, pulsating and flickering not entirely unlike multicolored strobe lights, and Mike found himself being thrown around by unseen forces through a cacaphony of wildly twirling lights and shadows and shapes. He almost felt sick again, and would probably have thrown up if he'd had a body that could throw up, but as it was he just felt the nausea and dizziness pass through him and vanish almost at the same time as the spinning came to a sudden halt and deverything went dark.

"Whoa," he said, gripping at Splinter for support but passing through him and falling flat on his face. Behind him, he could hear Shredder snort -- it almost sounded like a repressed laugh, but he couldn't be sure.

Splinter once again helped Mike get to his feet. "Your spirit keeps thinking it is still in your body," he explained, "and is trying to react the way your body would to this type of transportation. You will get used to it."

"I'm not sure I wanna get used to it," Mike muttered. "Did we make it? Where are we?"

"Take a look around and tell me," said Splinter.

Mike was just about to say that it was too dark for him to get a good look at anything, but then he discovered that this wasn't true -- his eyes, or what he perceived as his eyes, or however this worked, were quickly getting used to the lower level of light, and he found that he could easily see everything around him, even in the dark.

It was his room, and it wasn't his room. It had the same basic shape and size, and that annoying crack in the wall that was always the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes in the morning was right there where it always was -- but that's where the similarity stopped. His bed was gone, along with all of his other things; videogames, books and comic books, DVDs, weapons and equipment, all absent. Instead, the room was filled with various random objects, organized in different stacks or piles. Some of the objects was stuff he had never seen before, but others were very familiar -- he recognized Don's first computer and Raph's old teddybear, Pookie (which Raph had thrown away at the age of seven and afterwards furiously denied had ever existed).

"Okay," he said, looking at both Splinter and Shredder. "Ya know, I'm gonna say it. I'm gonna go ahead with the cliché and say it. I mean, I just can't _not_ say this, it'd go against every single narrative law ever written. Here goes: _Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."_

"Cute," said Shredder dryly.

"It looks like my room, but..." Mike paused, letting the idea sink in. "If I'm not around, I guess the others used it as a storage room. I really don't exist now?!"

"That is correct, Michelangelo," said Splinter softly. "Welcome to the world in which you were never born."

He waved a furry hand, and Mike saw to his surprise that the air in front of them began to shimmer, not unlike how it might during a heat wave or over a burning fire. In the middle of the shimmering, an image appeared; somewhat blurred and unclear, but easy enough to make out -- a trafficked road somewhere in New York. Mike was about to ask what this was, but then his eyes fell on the small boy in the crowd on the pavement.

"Whoa!" he said again, looking at the glass jar in the boy's hands. "Is that --?"

"Your original owner, yes," said Shredder in a bored tone. "Or more correctly, your brothers' original owner, since you were never born. He was planning on getting four turtles that day, but the pet store didn't have more than three turtles for him when he came to buy. He was planning on returning later for a fourth one, but wanted to take the first three home as soon as he could."

Fascinated, Mike watched the scene that developed in front of him. He had heard it described so many times, but couldn't actually remember it taking place. Now, he saw Splinter's story of their origin play out right there: The TCRI truck, the old blind man, the almost-accident. And the canister with the mutagen, unnoticed by most of the crowd as the violent motions of the truck sent it flying.

Almost in slow motion, it seemed, the canister hit and smashed the glass bowl with the three baby turtles in it, causing the newly-made turtle owner to drop it. There was a moment of horrible chaos... and then, both canister, glass shards and turtles vanished down the manhole and plunged into the darkness of the sewers.

The scene changed, showing the three baby turtles crawling around in the glowing green ooze that leaked out of the broken canister, as the pre-mutated Splinter scurried up to them, peering at them with curious eyes that already seemed much too intelligent for a normal rat. Mike watched as the rat tried to clean the ooze off the turtles before gathering them up in an old, discarded coffee can, which it dragged away to its nest.

"You might notice that in this world, there was much more room in the coffee can," said Shredder sardonically. "Three turtles do not take up as much space as four, so your brothers had much more elbow room. At least until the mutagen started working."

"Whoa," said Mike again. He had often wondered how his origin, so often told and retold by Splinter, had actually looked like back then. He'd painted vivid images in his head of everything he'd been too young to remember, of the kid and the truck and the accident -- and when he saw it now, it turned out to be completely different from anything he'd managed to envision. It was both disappointing and at the same time very, very exciting.

"That was brilliant!" he exclaimed as the image faded and the air turned normal again. "Can you show anything else like that? How about cartoons? Can you show cartoons?"

"Actually," said Splinter, with a hint of a smile, "yes. But this is hardly the time and place for that, Michelangelo. This display was merely meant to serve as an introduction to this world. And as you could see, your brothers' and master's origin remains unchanged, with one notable exception."

"Me," said Mike, sobering up.

"Precisely."

Mike nodded thoughtfully and looked towards the closed door. "So. Out there is a world where I don't exist, and my brothers and father don't know me." It was a slightly frightening concept, but also somewhat intriguing. How _did_ everyone manage without him?

"Why not go out and have a look for yourself?" said Splinter, as if he had read Mike's mind.

"Won't they get slightly suspicious when they see a strange mutant Turtle just coming waltzing out of the storage room?" said Mike. "_Hi, I'm your brother from an alternate world. You don't know me, but I know you. Ask me anything. No, I'm not a spy, don't attack me -- come to think of it, you can't attack me anyway, because I'm intangible. _Somehow, I don't think they'd take that too well."

Shredder growled. "You are a spirit!" he snapped. "You are invisible to the physical world! Nobody will be able to see or hear any of us!"

"That's not how these stories usually go," said Mike dubiously. He wanted to add something else, but was cut off as Shredder gave him a hard shove, sending him tumbling towards the closed door. But instead of a painful collision with the door, he fell right through it, as if it wasn't there at all, and stumbled head-first into the main chaimber of the Lair.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**Author's notes:** This is the revised/rewritten version of my first ever multipart fanfic, which was originally written and posted at the Stealthy Stories community. While I liked the basic idea and theme, I thought the story was lacking in several places. So now I'm doing a rewrite, hopefully managing to fix the problems I had with the original version.

Few notes on this chapter: Michelangelo's comment about everyone who's done this story before is only partially correct -- Yes, Donald Duck had an 'if you were never born' experience in the short 1994 comic _The Duck Who Never Was _(a story created in celebration of the Duck's sixtieth birthday, and ispiration for this story's title), and Kermit the Frog had one in _It's A Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie _from 2002 -- but Garfield never had one. It was Wade from the _U. S. Acres/Orson's Farm_ segment on the Garfield cartoon who had the experience (and discovered that the world was more or less exactly the same without him in it): As for the Silver Sentry one, I made that one up.

Oh, and Raphael never having seen _It's A Wonderful Life_ because he could never get past the title is a reference to _Batman: The Animated Series._ I thought it fit his personality.


	2. The Champion

* * *

**THE TURTLE WHO NEVER WAS**

**Based on _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_**  
**by Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird**

**Disclaimer: All TMNT-related characters are the property of Mirage Studios, and that's the truth.**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO:**  
**The Champion**

* * *

Picking himself up from the floor, and still not completely used to the fact that falling down no longer hurt, Mike found that the Lair, even in this world with no Michelangelo, looked more or less the same as ever.

The only real difference, that he could see, was that the wall he had once accidentally knocked down while trying to hang up a picture was still whole and intact; the mysterious (and convenient) elevator that was hiding behind the wall seemed to have gone undiscovered without him. It was, perhaps, a small thing, but it did more clearly than ever reinforce that this wasn't quite the same _Lair_ as the one he knew and loved.

Oh yeah, and he had never seen Raph giving ninjutsu lessons to a group of kids in the old Lair, either.

...wait, _what?_

Mike blinked and looked again.

True enough, there in the usual training area where Mike and his brothers had gone through so many katas and practice fights, a group of human kids -- about a dozen of them, varying in age from ten to fourteen -- were watching Raphael demonstrating a few simple ninja kicks and trying, with various degrees of success, to mimic his movements.

With a mixture of curiosity and astonishment, Mike moved closer to them, marvelling at the kids as they did their best Raphael impressions. He didn't recognize any of them... no, scratch that, he did recognize one. Right in the middle of the group was Angel -- there was just no mistaking that purple hair -- kicking out in the air with an enthusiasm Mike had seldom seen outside of Leonardo.

None of them as much as glanced in Mike's direction, even when he came up close.

"Raph?" said Mike hesitantly. "You can't see me, can you?"

Raph didn't react, not even when Mike waved a hand right in front of his face; he just continued demonstrating kicks and having the kids copy them.

"Well, fine," said Mike. "Then you won't get mad if I say that, ooooh, Raphael is a big fat meanie who smells like he bathes in sewer water every day and who wouldn't know good ninjutsu if it came up and bit him on the shell!" He almost instinctively got ready to dodge Raph's attacks, but they never came; there was absolutely no sign that anyone had heard him.

Huh, he thought with a mixture of relief, disappointment and fascination, guess they really can't see or hear me. For a moment he pondered saying all the stuff that he had never dared to say to Raph before, all the good punchlines and insults that he had bit back in order to save himself the retort, but then he discovered that he didn't really want to. It seemed incredibly pointless to use such remarks on someone who couldn't even hear him.

"Are you done being childish?" It was Shredder, who had, together with Splinter, appeared next to Mike and stood there just as unnoticed by Raph and the kids.

Mike shrugged, deciding not to answer that with a biting remark. "So what's Raph doing playing Master Splinter, and who are all these kids?"

Shredder crossed is arms gleefully. "Well, it appears that Raphael is the Battle Nexus champion."

"He's _what_?!" said Mike.

"Obviously. You were not there to defeat him by that fluke --"

"_Hey_!"

" -- and so, he went to the final round and won. It was a quite impressive victory at that. His triumph provided a great inspiration both for him and for others. I believe that he thought that if he, an outcast in his own world, could raise to greatness like he had, then others would be able to do the same. He founded his own martial arts school to teach children who might be in need of some discipline and direction in their lives."

"Raph and children?" Mike rubbed his head. "I hope he doesn't lose his temper with them, then. Raph can be pretty scary when he's angry."

"I would not worry," said Splinter. Though he may be loath to admit it, your brother has always had a soft spot for children. He will not cause them harm."

"Okay, students," said Raph, oblivious to the conversation that was going on beside him. "Well done! Take five, everyone -- you too, Angel," he added with a smirk as Angel punched the air a few extra times with renewed energy.

"Your wish is my command, oh great Sensei," said the girl in an over-dramatic voice and gave a mock-bow.

"Smart-aleck comments will earn ya twenty extra push-ups," said Raph calmly. "So will laughin' at a fellow student's punishment," he added, looking at a small boy who seemed to have problems controlling his mirth. "Go on, before the break."

Angel and the boy exchanged glances, but obediently got into position to do the demanded twenty push-ups as the other kids spread out through the lair, some of them occupying the couches, others making themselves comfortable on the floor, chatting casually.

"Also, it might interest you to know that Raphael is actually much better at controlling his temper here than the Raphael you know," said Shredder, returning his attention towards Mike. "It seems that since you were not around to hog your Master Splinter's attention, the rat was able to spend more time with Raphael and teach him better self-control. All the children you see here, Michelangelo, were outcasts who had difficult lives. In the world you know, all of them end as juvenile delinquents or even Purple Dragon members. But here, thanks to the guidance of the Battle Nexus champion, they are learning how to get order to themselves and making something out of their lives."

"Oh." Mike suddenly felt ashamed of himself. _He_ had never thought of anything like that after winning the Battle Nexus. Why _hadn't_ he thought of anything like that? "And Master Splinter didn't mind him doing this? I mean, showing himself to so many humans, and even inviting them to our home?"

"He was dubious at first," Splinter answered. "But he had to admit that Raphael had a positive effect on these children. And after the security for the Lair got an extra upgrade, courtesy of Donatello, he was eventually convinced there was no risk."

"I see." Mike shook his head and looked at Raph, who was still supervising Angel and the boy doing their push-ups. There was something different about Raph, he thought, something about the way he was carrying himself. This wasn't a Raphael who resented the world and his role in it, but a Raphael who was confident and secure in himself, and who had found a way to make a difference. Much as Mike hated to admit it, it seemed like Raph, at least, was handling himself better without Mike around.

His line of thought was interrupted by the sudden ringing of a Shell Cell. Instinctively, Mike made a grab for his, only to remember that he wasn't carrying it. He smiled sheepishly at Shredder, who just shook his head and pointed at Raph.

The red-clad Turtle had picked up his own Shell Cell. "Talk to me," he said flippantly. "Oh, hey Donny. Yeah, I'm trainin' the kids today. Yes," he added with a sigh, "I _did_ forbid 'em to enter your lab. No, they're not gonna enter it, jeez! Have some faith, okay? Nobody'd be stupid enough to go messin' with your stuff after that demonstration of how dangerous it is."

"Uh..." said Mike sheepishly, remembering the times he'd gone 'messing' around in Don's lab for no good reason.

"If you needed any further proof that you do not exist in reality..." said Shredder, letting his voice trail off meaningfully.

"Aw, I haven't done it in years," Mike defended himself. "I was young and foolish!"

"About the same age as some of these children, I believe." said Shredder, echoing the nastier thoughts in Mike's head.

In the background, Raph waved an approving hand at Angel and the boy, who had finished their push-ups and bowed to him before making their way over to the other kids on the couch. "Yeah, okay, I'll tell Master Splinter you'll be late," he said to the Shell Cell. "I'll save ya some lasagna too -- you can just heat it up in the microwave, you can manage that, right? Kay, bro. See ya later."

"Lasagna?" Mike turned to look at Splinter. "I didn't even know Raph could cook! What's he doing making lasagna?!"

Splinter paused a bit before answering. "It seems like Raphael, since you were not around to take over most of the cooking duties, was more often than not the one who got that particular task. Eventually he discovered that he had quite a talent for the culinary arts, a talent that truly blossomed when he devoted a little extra time to develop it."

"He also had a somewhat easier time of it," Shredder interrupted. "You Turtles always lived off what you could scavenge, especially during your younger years, before you got all your human contacts. And as you're more than aware, the food and money you can find on the streets of New York, especially when you have to stay hidden at all times, is hardly enough to feed five mutants. With only four, it was easier to find enough to sustain them."

"C'mon, I helped with that," Mike protested. "What about that time I found a twenty-dollar bill, huh?"

"Since you were never born, you obviously didn't," said Shredder. Mike was sure he was wearing a smug grin on his face behind that stupid metal mask. "But, no need to worry, in your absence, _Splinter_ found it. The rat always was better at spotting details than any of you Turtles. Your participation in these scavenging missions was not so great that it made up for you constantly eating more than your share, as you generally did."

"Well... I was a growing Turtle?"

"So were your brothers."

Mike opened his mouth to answer, and then realized that he didn't actually have an answer to that. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he said, annoyed with himself and even more annoyed with Shredder.

"Why would I enjoy spending any kind of time in your company?" said Shredder acidly. "I'm merely pointing out the obvious. Raphael, for one, is very clearly better off without you in his life -- not only that, but he has taken many of the chances and opportunities you had in your life and done a lot better for himself that you ever could. Are you denying any of this?"

Mike sighed and shook his head. "Guess I can't," he admitted.

"So, are you ready to admit that your life hasn't been worthwhile yet?"

Suddenly, Mike felt a surge of anger flare up. Truth be told, seeing Raph's situation he _had_, briefly, pondered whether Shredder had had a point, but now he forced that thought out of his head. Shell if he was going to let this pseudo-Shredder taunt him like this! "No way!" he said. "Okay, sure, Raph's doing fine, and good on him too! But that doesn't mean my life's worthless!"

"That much is true," said Splinter calmly. "We have barely begun to see what the world is like without Michelangelo. There is much going on outside this Lair. Shall we perhaps investigate?"

"We shall!" said Mike. "What about Donny? Let's start with him! Where'd he call from and why's he gonna be late?"

"By all means," said Shredder, "let's start with Donatello. His life has taken a few interesting turns without you around."

"What do you mean?" said Mike.

"You're about to find out," said Shredder.

"Ri-ight," said Mike. "So how do we find him? I mean, it's not like we can ask Raph for directions, right?"

"We do not need to," said Splinter. "we can simply do it like this."

And with that, the Lair vanished around them as the world once again turned into a cacophony of spinning lights, and Mike braced himself for that feeling of once more being tossed around like a feather in a storm, but strangely enough it never came. Only a few seconds passed before the world returned to normal, with Mike, Shredder and Splinter now standing outside an old, rundown building that the Turtle couldn't recall ever having seen before.

The sun was low in the sky, and the tall buildings surrounding this particular one were casting long shadows over the less-than busy street; it seemed like they were in one of the quieter parts of Manhattan on a slow afternoon.

Mike's instincts kicked in at that point, telling him in a very insistent way that standing out in the open like this -- and in full daylight, no less -- was not a good idea. But he forced himself to ignore them, repeating in his mind that it was okay, he was still an invisible spirit, and there was no risk of any mad scientist spotting him and kidnapping him in order to do hideous experiments upon him.

He relaxed.

"This is getting easier," he said. "I didn't even feel queasy this time!"

"Even for a spirit, travelling a physical distance is always much easier than shifting between realities," said Splinter. "It takes less time and less energy."

"And is easier on what the spirit perceives as the stomach," said Mike, looking more closely at the building in front of him. It was a garage, he realized now; old and rundown, yes, but it didn't feel abandoned. "So, Don's here? What's he doing, working as a mechanic?"

"And who would hire a five-foot Turtle as a mechanic?" said Shredder dryly.

"Another five-foot Turtle?" Mike joked. "Ya never know, maybe Leo took up the business of managing, and -- never mind," he added as Shredder glared at him. "Don's definitely inside this building, though?"

"At this very moment, yes," Splinter nodded.

"Okay. In that case, what are we waiting for?"

With firm steps, mostly to convince himself that he wasn't at all nervous about seeing how Don managed without him, Mike walked up to the building and -- lust like before -- passed right through the wall, as if it was made out of fog, to find himself inside.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**Author's notes: **Obviously, this story takes place sometime during the third or possibly fourth season of the cartoon series, given the Lair's location and the constant references to the Battle Nexus tournament.

And yes, I know, I'm mean. But Michelangelo's right, he _has_ only begun to see the world, and there _are_ things going on that he doesn't know about yet... so we'll just see what happens in the next chapter, when we find out what Donatello is up too in the world without Mike.


	3. The Two Vigilantes

* * *

**THE TURTLE WHO NEVER WAS**

**Based on _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_**  
**by Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird**

**Disclaimer: All TMNT-related characters are the property of Mirage Studios. Yes, they _are_!**

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE:**

**The Two Vigilantes**

* * *

The interior of the garage looked pretty much like what Michelangelo had imagined -- lots of concrete and lots of tools and not a single TV or radio in sight. Fairly typical of Donny.

In the far end of the room, a van, of older vintage and with an extremely unremarkable dull green paint job, stood parked, and Mike could see a pair of familiar green feet sticking out from underneath it. It seemed like Don was working on the engine; just like he might have done with the Battle Shell back in the world where Mike existed.

"All right," the purple-clad Turtle said as he slid out from beneath the van. "I think that should do it. Ready for another test drive... _Moron?"_

Mike watched as his brother emerged, dirty as only a proper mechanic could be, and quirked a brow in confusion. "What?" he said. "You calling me a moron? Donny, you can see me?! You know who I am?! You --"

He was interrupted by another familiar voice, which came from behind the van, speaking in the same casual tone as Don had: "I'd wash my face first If I were you... _Nerd." _

"A true scientist, not to mention a true mechanic, is never afraid of getting a little dirty... _Oaf_," said Don, grinning. "Where's the towel?"

Mike blinked as the black-haired, slightly scruffy form of Casey Jones suddenly came walking out from where he had been hidden behind the van. Oh, so that was who Don had been talking to. For a moment there, Mike had thought -- oh well.

"Here ya go,_ Peabrain," _said Casey, tossing a crumpled-up towel towards Don, who caught it in mid-air.

"Much abliged, _Quirky Quahog."_

"Double Q? Color me impressed, _Ratbag."_

"You've never been hard to impress, _Sucker."_

_Oh, I get it,_ thought Mike as Don, still grinning, started drying himself with the towel and continuing to exchange insults with Casey, _it's a game. "Alphabetical insults" or something like that. Wow, I knew Donny had a big vocabulary, but I didn't think he had it in him to --_ He paused, remembering the very few times Don had actually been angry at him, usually after Mike had messed up an experiment, and just how creative he could get in finding names to call innocent victims of terrible misunderstandings. _Okay, on second thought, I can see how he'd have a talent for games like this. _

Don and Casey kept working their way through the alphabet as Splinter and Shredder once again just suddently stood there next to Mike, watching the scene with him.

"So," said Mike, turning to Splinter, "I guess Don and Casey hang out a lot? What do they do?"

"Watch, and you will see," said Splinter, motioning towards the dueling insulters.

Don had just finished cleaning himself off with the towel, and while it probably hadn't done as much good against the greasy dirt as a proper wash, with soap, would have done, you could at least see that he had made an attempt.

"...That's what you think, _Weirdo_," he said, throwing the towel onto a peg on the nearby wall, where it immediately failed to hang properly and fell to the floor instead.

"Nice throw, uh, _Xena Lover, "_ said Casey.

Don laughed as he walked over to the towel and hung it properly up on the peg. _"Xena Lover? _You're losing your grip. Besides, weren't you the one who used to watch that show, _Yobbo? "_

"Yeah, well, I couldn't think of anything else with an X right now, uh..." said Casey, pausing. "Aw, rats. Now I can't think of anything good with a Z either."

"Game, set and match," said Don in a satisfied voice. "Unless you wanna go again?"

"Nah, not right now." Casey strolled over to the van and opened the door on the passenger's side. "Right now, I'd rather take this baby for a test drive and see how much power we managed to give it. Wanna do the honors?"

"You got it."

Don opened the door on the driver's side and got in behind the wheel, and seconds later the unmistakable rumble of a car engine filled the room, as Casey got in beside Don and opened the clove compartment, pulling out one of his trademark hockey masks.

"You don't need the mask now," said Don, his voice muffled from within the car. "Head-busting is reserved for nights, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Casey flippantly, putting the mask on. "But I gotta be in uniform when in the car! It just wouldn't feel _right_ otherwise!"

Don just shook his head and stepped on the gas. Slowly, the garage door rose to let the van through as it drove out on the street, turned a corner and vanished from sight even before the door began closing itself again.

Michelangelo watched the door close before he turned again to look at Shredder and Splinter. "So, lemme get this straight," he said, trying not to sound too flabbergasted, "Don and Casey go out _'head-busting'_ together?"

"In a manner of speaking," said Splinter. "Michelangelo, do you remember how you and your brothers first came to know Casey Jones?"

"Um." Mike had to think for a moment. Truth be told, Casey Jones had been such a big part of all their lives for so long that it was hard to imagine, or remember, a time when he _wasn't_ around. "Raph ran into him one night and stopped him from getting too violent on a coupla Purple Dragon punks."

"Correct. And do you remember why Raphael was outside that particular night?" said Splinter.

Mike shook his head, but then but then a flicker of a memory rushed through his brain. "Wait... he'd gone out because... because he'd been sparring with me and I'd beaten him and he got all ticked off, and then..."

"And then he left the Lair in order to clear his head, yes," said Splinter. "However, since you were never there for Raphael to lose his temper over, he was not out on the street that night to meet Mr. Jones."

"So Raph and Casey never met?" said Mike. "But how'd Don meet him, then?"

"That happened a few weeks later. Watch." Like before, Splinter waved his hand, and the air in front of Mike began to shimmer, until an image appeared, and things began playing out before them like a slightly blurry movie.

* * *

Like before, the scene was of a random street in New York -- but _unlike_ before, it was nighttime and fairly silent, for the "city that never sleeps," anyway. Michelangelo, watching in fascination, could make out a familiar silhouette rushing across the rooftops, with what looked like a shoulderbag strapped to its shoulder.

It looked like Donatello had been out on another of his "junk runs," as Mike and his brothers had dubbed them in the past; the trips where he visited junkyards and specially-selected dumpsters and brought home things that may or may not be of use. (If the things he found were too big and heavy for him to get home by himself, he generally got Mike to help him with it -- which was why Mike knew a great deal about those junk runs and how Donny operated.)

A shrill scream from below made the silhouette pause and look down into the darkened alleyway where, Mike could see, two street punks -- easily recognizable as members of the Purple Dragons -- closing threateningly in on a horrified-looking young woman.

Before either Mike or, apparently, Don, could say or do anything, another familiar figure appeared at the end of the alley, one baseball bat in each hand and an angry frown beneath the white hockey mask.

"You Purple Dragon scum just never learn, do ya?" said Casey Jones, advancing on the two street punks. "Well, thankfully I'm a persistent teacher!" He raised both baseball bats. "Welcome to _Crime Doesn't Pay 101_, punks! Time for your first lesson!"

The woman and the dragons all turned to look at him, their expressions suddenly changing.

"Actually," said the woman, all of a sudden not looking terrified anymore but rather triumphant and with a cruel smirk on her face, "I believe you're the one who's going to get a lesson here. This is _You Just Walked Straight Into Our Trap 101._"

"What the --?" was all Casey had time to say before more people emerged out of the shadows of the alleyway, and even more came up from behind him -- all of them brandishing weapons of some sort and glaring evilly at him. It didn't take a genius to realize that they were all Purple Dragon members, and that Casey now found himself completely surrounded.

"You've been going after the members of our gang for far too long now," said the woman, picking up a lead pipe that had been lying on the ground close by, pointing it at him. "It ends tonight."

"Oh, an ambush, eh?" Casey snarled, glancing around himself. "Bring it on. Twenty-four's my lucky number."

"There are twenty-_seven_ of us, you idiot!" one of the gang members shouted.

"Are we gonna fight or discuss algebra?" said Casey. Which was all he had time to say before twenty Purple Dragon members leapt at him at once.

If this had been an action movie, Mike thought, and the Purple Dragons had followed the typical (and frankly not very practical) unwritten code that action movie villains always seemed to use in big battle scenes like this, they would have attacked one by one, or two at a time at most, while the others just stood around, giving Casey ample opportunity to defeat all his attackers. However, this was not an action movie, and even if it had been, the Purple Dragons were punks, pure and simple, and couldn't care less about codes or honor codexes. They attacked all at once, and although Casey was in above-average shape and would have been more than a match for any two or even three of them, he couldn't handle twenty at once.

He fought like a madman, managing to get in a few good hits with his baseball bats, but it didn't take long at all before he'd been completely overwhelmed and the Dragons were on him, beating the shell out of him.

For a moment, Mike considered covering his eyes, but before he could -- and completely out of the blue -- Donatello came crashing down upon the scene, landing just beside the pile of Purple Dragons and swinging his bo staff with such sudden force that he sent several of them flying.

"It's one of those frog-costumed freaks!" one of the Dragons shouted.

"Oh, that hurt," said Don. "Next thing you know, one of you are going to call my bo a stick, and then I'll get _really_ upset!"

Five of the Dragons that were not engaged with Casey or too busy taking a nap after their violent meeting with the not-a-stick charged at him, but Don had been prepared for this, and slid elegantly out of the way, causing three of them to collide with each other instead and the last two to be perfect targets for another whack with the bo staff.

"Almost as upset as I get when I see people who gang up on one guy like that," Don continued, spinning around and sending another Dragon flying. "Hate to hit and run, but the masked guy and I have an important appointment elsewhere!"

With that, he whipped out a small pellet from his belt and threw it to the ground. Immediately, white smoke filled the area, obscuring everything and made it impossible to see anything. For almost a minute, all that could be heard was the coughing and wheezing of twenty-seven Purple Dragon members.

Finally, the smoke cleared up enough to reveal that the Dragons were now alone in the alley and Don and Casey were gone.

From somewhere in the distance, Mike could hear police sirens, coming closer and closer.

* * *

The image faded again, and Mike realized that the show was over.

"Good ol' Donny," he said. "So what happened afterwards?"

"About half the Purple Dragons present were apprehended by the police, whom Donatello had called from his Shell Cell phone before going into the battle," said Splinter. "The rest of the gang escaped, but were unable to save their comrades from arrest. Meanwhile, Donatello got Mr. Jones to a safe place. Luckily, he was not seriously injured, and after the initial distrust over the mutant turtle that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, he found himself quite grateful for the rescue. The fact that he had needed a rescue in the first place made him reconsider his crime-fighting techniques a bit..."

"And so he teamed up with Donny?" said Mike.

"So it would seem," said Shredder, who had been surprisingly silent until now. "Are you that surprised, Michelangelo? Why shouldn't you accept that Donatello and Casey Jones might have a lot to learn from each other, and be willing to acknowledge this? For now, they patrol the city by car at night, listening in on the police radio for crimes they might help out with. By day, they go on the so-called "junk runs" -- Casey being a much bigger help to Donatello than _you_ ever were, by the way."

"But --"

"He has some technical skills, which _you_ completely lack, and is better at seeing what would be at use and what won't. Besides, he is a human, and can openly go places where Donatello cannot -- just as Donatello, with his superior skills and physique, can go places where Casey could not. It's an ideal partnership. Your brothers and master have even more useful things around thanks to Casey Jones -- and furthermore, the crime rate in the city, particularly Purple Dragon-related, is lower in this world than in yours because of those two deciding to put their forces together. Donatello provides the brains while Casey Jones provides the _drive_."

"Um, no, Donny was the one who was driving," Mike muttered, but somehow he couldn't really put his heart in the joke. Casey and Don, _not_ Casey and Raph, out head-busting together? And doing a better job of it than Casey and Raph? The mind boggled.... and yet, in some twisted way it kinda made sense when you thought about it.

Don had always been a bit of a peacemaker. While he could, as he'd just aptly demonstrated, kick butt with the best of them, he usually tried the less violent solution. He'd be the perfect balance point to the hotheaded Casey, probably stopping things from going too far and injuries from getting too severe. He'd also be better at technical planning, and after years of living together with Raphael (even a milder, gentler Raphael) knew all the tricks on how to handle someone with a big temper.

"What about April, though?" Mike added as he suddenly remembered his female friend. April had always been close to Donny, and of course everyone knew about her and Casey, even if she would furiously deny it. "How's she taking all this? ...She's still around in this world, right?"

"Very much so," said Splinter. "She and Casey Jones are living together. Donatello has been a positive influence on Mr. Jones, and after Miss O'Neil started training with Leonardo, she has learned to be more open and honest with herself about her feelings. I believe she occasionally joins them on their nightly rounds."

"Oh," said Mike, silently wondering what to be most surprised at -- April actually having agreed to live together with Casey, or April going out head-busting on an occasional basis, _or_ the fact that all it took for April and Casey to finally get together was for Mike never to have been born... Then, something else Splinter had said sank in and momentarily overshadowed everything else: "Wait, April's training with Leo?"

"You are not the quickest of mind, are you?" said Shredder acidly. "_Yes_, as a matter of fact, she is. Though perhaps not in the way you may think."

"Not in the way I may -- what's that supposed to mean?"

"That," said Splinter, "is a fairly complicated story. Would you perhaps like to see? I did find it somewhat odd that you had not shown any particular interest in Leonardo's life so far."

"Obviously, he doesn't care what happens to Leonardo," Shredder snorted.

"It's not like that!" said Mike. "It's just that, well, it's _Leo_!"

"So?"

"Duh! Dude's more of a rock than Mount Everest! You could remove _any_ of us from his life, except Master Splinter, and he'd remain Leo!"

"Interesting..." said Splinter, rubbing his chin. "So you think that you have not had any effect on Leonardo's life?"

"Not in any important way, no. I mean, yeah, he probably does _some_ things different here," Mike shrugged, "but really, how much could me not being around have affected him? Raph and Don I can see, but Leo? He's the one guy I've always known would do just fine without me."

"In other words, you admit that your life is worthless?" said Shredder triumphantly.

"Dude, will you _stop_ with the broken record impression?!" Mike snapped. "Can't you go five minutes without saying that?"

"Not until you admit it!" Shredder snapped back.

"Dream on!" said Mike, though a nasty little voice in the back of his head kept telling him that it couldn't be a coincidence that both Raph and Donny, and (it seemed) even Casey and April, were doing better without him than with him. He brushed it off, though, refusing to let it grow into anything more than just a nasty little voice. "I'm _not_ worthless! But Leo's, like, a special case... you just can't hold him to the same rules as everyone else!"

"You think not?" said Splinter. "Then I suggest that our next action should be going to visit Leonardo and see what he is doing."

"Uh, yeah, sure," said Mike, wondering what to make of the '_you think not.'_ "Take me to the fearless leader!"

This time, he was even prepared for it as the spin-and-fade of the world around him started.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**Author's notes: **_The Two Vigilantes_ might be my favorite chapter in this story, and it's all thanks to Casey Jones. I really love writing the nutcase, and for some reason he always seems to shine a little extra when partnered with Donatello. Besides, how can you not like their Alphabetical Insults game, borrowed here from the first live-action movie?

Note the lack of Battle Shell and abandoned warehouse. Since it was Mike who discovered the elevator to the warehouse, the Turtles never found it in this reality. And since the Battle Shell mainly came about because Mike kept pestering Don for it (and the final prompt for him to build it was when Raph was to go stop Casey -- another thing that never happened in the Mike-less world), Don never got around to do the upgrade and re-build of the truck in this world. He busied himself with many other things instead, as you can plainly see from this chapter.


	4. The Sensei and his Student

* * *

**THE TURTLE WHO NEVER WAS**

**Based on _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles _**  
**by Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird**

**Disclaimer: All TMNT-related characters are the property of Mirage Studios. Why do you doubt this?**

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR:**  
**The Sensei and his Student**

* * *

"Ya know," Michelangelo began as the world around him slowly came to a halt and he hadn't felt even a little dizzy, "I'm getting used to this part n-"

And cut himself off with a startled yelp (which, he decided later, was a much better description for it than _"a girlish scream"_) as he found himself staring directly into the face of Leonardo just two inches in front of his eyes and staring at him with intense suspicion.

To his surprise, Mike found that he was trapped -- trapped within a semi-transparent, faintly glowing, greenish bubble.

Panicking, he threw himself back, expecting to pass through the bubble like he passed through anything else, but instead meeting an unexpected force from the bubble walls that he couldn't break through. It didn't hurt, but it didn't let him through either -- and he realized that this had to be some sort of force bubble designed to keep spirits from passing through, like some sort of rejected idea from _Ghostbusters_.

He spun around, looking for a way out, but the bubble had sealed him in completely, and then it sank in on him that Splinter and Shredder were nowhere in sight. He was completely alone in the bubble, his two guides seemingly having picked this moment to forsake him.

Had this entire set-up been a freakish trap of some kind? Had Shredder and Splinter lured him here, showing him a lot of made-up stuff in order to get him off his guard so they could trap his spirit in this manner?

Then, he noticed that Leonardo, standing outside the force bubble, was watching him with the same expression of intense suspicion. And it dawned on Mike that Leo could see him.

"Very good, April," the blue-clad Turtle said. "You've got him. Now then, mister spirit..."

"What the shell?" said Mike. "Leo?! You can see me?"

"Don't bother with the friendly talk," said Leo coldly. "You're not fooling me. And if you think you're going to seem more trustworthy by taking on the appearance of a Turtle, you're mistaken."

"Whoa -- but --" Mike managed to sputter with a mix of confusion, fear and annoyance: Just as he'd gotten used to nobody being able to see him, Leo had to come along and break the rules and throw him completely off-course.

"Save it." Leo took a step back and took a Shell Cell from his belt. "Hold him for a while, April; I'll call for backup."

Mike suddenly realized that a human woman was standing to Leo's side with an intense look of concentration on her face. It took a moment for him to recognize her as April, though not April as he knew her. She was wearing a skintight, dark gray bodysuit, her hair was cut short and instead of its normal red color was black -- but most surprising, her forehead and right cheek sported some weird-looking tattoos or sigils, giving her a different, somewhat mystical and vaguely freakish, look.

Mike didn't have time to ponder this, because Leo had dialed a number and was now talking into the Shell Cell. "This is Leonardo," he said. "We've got some trouble here in the old Lair. No, we've got it under control for the moment. Can you bring the guys here, though?"

Almost subconsciously, Mike realized that they were indeed in the old Lair -- the one that had been destroyed by Mousers long ago, where he had first met Leatherhead. But it was completely renovated, equipped with more high-tech stuff than your average science lab -- computers, flashing screens and lights, wires and devices that Mike could only begin to guess what were for.

"Yeah, bring _him_ too," said Leo to the Shell Cell. "Thank you. See you soon." He hung up and looked at April. "They'll be here as soon as they can. Can you hold him until they do?"

"Yes, sensei," said April, her voice slightly distant, as if she was in some kind of trance -- which, Mike guessed, was probably not far from the truth. It seemed like she was, through some kind of meditation, the one projecting the greenish bubble around him, keeping him trapped -- but how? The April _he_ knew couldn't have done anything like that! Shell, _nobody_ he hung around with on a daily basis could do anything like that!

He tried reaching out and touching the bubble. but once again found that an invisible force prevented him from even coming near it.

"No point in trying to break out," said Leo, returning his attention to him. "You're trapped. Now, I'm going to give you one chance to answer my questions, and you'd better hope that I like the answers. Who are you?! You and those two friends of yours have been nosing around my brothers all day!"

"Friends?" said Mike. "Oh, uh, those two. They're not friends, they're my guides. Or at least they said they were. I'm starting to wonder if the entire thing was a scam of some sort. You wouldn't happen to know where they are, would ya?"

"They got away," said Leo. "But we'll find them, don't you worry about that. Maybe my brothers can't sense you, but _I_ can, and so can April. And as long as you're trapped in that bubble, everyone can see and hear you just perfectly, so don't even try to pretend that this is some sort of joke or misunderstanding. So _who are you?!_ Why are you spying on us?"

Mike gulped. Leo could be dangerous when dealing with those he perceived as enemies, and it seemed that Mike himself had recently been added to that list. "It's kind of a long story. You prolly won't believe it."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Well, okay. My name is Michelangelo. I'm your brother. Or, well, the spirit of your brother at the moment, but I usually have a body."

Leo's eyes narrowed behind his mask. "I don't have a brother named Michelangelo."

"Yeah, uh, not at the moment, you don't! See, I was visited by these two spirits who wanted to show me what the world was like if I'd never been born..." already as he said this, Mike knew how stupid it sounded. "I mean, yes, I know it's a cliché, but in my defense, it wasn't my idea, and I never even said 'I wish I'd never been born' or anything like that, and --"

There came a snort from April, the unmistakable sound of a repressed giggle, but she quickly composed herself and slipped back into her trance. The bubble glowed a little brighter as she did so.

Leo shot the woman a glance, then turned back to Mike. "You're not actually expecting anyone to believe that, are you? That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard!"

"Hence my earlier comment that you were probably not gonna believe it," Mike sighed. For a moment, he considered deliberately playing the clown, making April laugh hard enough that she'd lose concentration and allow him to escape, but the plan was a little too risky. Better to try and reason with Leo, at least for now. "Look, Leo, I --"

_"Leonardo_ to you!" Leo snapped. "I'm only '_Leo_' to my friends!"

"Right, right, Leonardo," said Mike, deciding that now was not the time to start arguing. "I swear, what originally happened was that there were _four_ Ninja Turtles, not three! I don't really know if this is an alternate reality or just some potential thing that's shown to me, or if the world really has changed so I really _was_ never born, but --"

Leo_nardo _frowned. "I know there are different worlds and alternate realities out there. I've visited a few. But none which ever contained anything like a third brother. I only have two brothers, and the three of us are the only ones of our species in existence."

"Yeah, I know, we -- that is, _you_ -- were created by an accident," said Mike hurriedly. "Look, you all started out as normal turtles, right? And then you were lost down the sewer and covered with this glowing green ooze from a canister with the letters _TCRI_ on it, and you were found by this rat called Splinter, who raised you and ---"

"If you're trying to convince me by repeating my own origin to me, you might as well give up," said Leonardo. "Almost everyone who knows of our existence knows that story. It wouldn't have been too hard for you to find out."

"Okay, then, ask me anything!" said Mike, hoping desperately that enough things had stayed the same in the world where he was never born that his knowledge wouldn't be completely useless now. "Uh, Raph had a teddybear called Pookie when he was little, but he'll thwack anyone who ever mentions that!" he gambled, remembering seeing Pookie in the storage room back in the lair.

Leonardo paused, looking genuinely surprised. "That's right," he said in a puzzled voice. "Okay, one point to you..._ Michelangelo._ That's something I was certain only the family knew. Maybe there's more to your story than I first thought."

"Told you, dude! I'm your brother who was never born! 'Cept things are different without me," said Mike. "Like, for example, what's with this bubble thing? The April I knew couldn't do anything like this! What happened? How'd she get that ability? She couldn't when she first met us, so I'm guessing that she picked it up somewhere along the way?"

Leo's voice was a little softer, as if his suspiciousness was easing up, as he spoke again. "You're right, she originally couldn't. How to explain this... Well, some time ago, we were contacted by the Utroms... I suppose you know the Utroms as well?"

Mike nodded.

"All right. Assuming your story is true, I don't know how things were for you... but not too long ago, after their original Earth base was destroyed, and they went back to their home planet, they decided to establish a new one, except as an outpost in direct contact with their home. Since they already knew us, they asked my family for assistance. Since my brothers are both busy with their personal lives, it was Master Splinter, April and I who ended up being the main contact people. It was one of the Utroms who discovered, almost by accident, that April was... a latent psionicist, I think he called it, with the potential for vast powers. A few things happened..." Leo paused.

"What happened?" said Mike, absorbed in the story.

Leo shook his head. "In any case, the Utroms taught her how to unlock her potential, and since the mental and physical disciplines she needed were very similar to the ones my brothers and I had been trained in as ninjas, I agreed to train her."

Mike nodded, sensing there was something that Leo wasn't telling him, but deciding not to break the small hint of trust his brother seemed to be showing him by pushing it. "That's a pretty big difference," he said. "Nothing like that ever happened when I was around. Shell, I didn't even think the Utroms were interested in coming back to Earth at all. Wonder why they changed their minds?"

"I think they mostly did it at the prompting of --" Leo began, but cut himself off as a bright light emerged from one of the devices in the background. "Oh, they're here."

Michelangelo suddenly recognized Leatherhead's old teleporter, the one he'd been working on when Mike had first met him but never got to finish. But here it was, and by the looks of it in full working condition, because within the bright light four figures were now fading in and becoming solid.

The most instantly recognizable one was Leatherhead, standing taller than anyone else and smartly dressed in a white suit that had to have been especially tailored for him. Two others, Mike saw, were Utroms, in their traditional humanoid exo-skeletons. The fourth, surprisingly enough, looked to be a human; a tall man with dark skin, and...

Mike stifled a gasp. _"Baxter Stockman?!"_

The man stepped up, straightening his glasses. "Anyone taking my name in vain?"

"Dude! Don'tcha see him?!" said Mike to Leo and April. "It's Stockman! He found your place! You gotta do something!"

"I'm perfectly aware it's Stockman," said Leo. "I specifically requested him to come along."

"What?! But he's a bad guy!" said Mike. "He's gonna experiment on you and sell you all out to Bishop or the Foot Clan and --"

"I highly resent these implications!" said Stockman, looking indignant. "I would do no such thing!"

"Excuse me," rumbled Leatherhead, walking up to stand protectively beside Stockman. "Leonardo, who is this prisoner of yours? And more importantly, why is he slandering my best friend?!"

"I have no idea," said Leo, looking back at the four. "He claims to be another Turtle from an alternate reality. I must admit, he's more clever than I thought -- almost had me convinced too." He turned back to Mike. "I'll have you know that Stockman is one of the Utroms' most trusted allies, and personal friend of me and my brothers! Sure, he used to work for the Shredder, but he's completely reformed and now works with the Utroms!"

"And he has proved himself more than once," said one of the Utroms peaceably. "Take it easy, Stockman. Nobody here is questioning your trustworthiness."

_But he's a bad guy!_ Mike wanted to scream. _He worked for Shredder, and for Bishop! _But then, two things dawned on him. First of all, Stockman was not in his robot body, but looked like a completely normal man. Second of all...

It had been Mike who originally met Leatherhead, back when the crocodile was first working on his teleporter, and it had been Mike who discovered that Leatherhead had befriended and was working together with Baxter Stockman, which had eventually led to the revelation of Stockman's villainous origins and the consequential destruction of the teleporter...

For the second time that day, Mike felt an icy chill pass through him.

What if Stockman had actually managed to change for the better? What if all he needed was for someone to trust him and treat him as a friend... and since Leatherhead never got those horror stories about him from Mike and his brothers, he had managed to build the teleporter with Stockman's help and returned to the Utroms' homeworld, where the Utroms of course had taken Leatherhead's word that Stockman was a friend... and so they'd have been friendly to him, even helping him get a new body (that by the looks of it was more stable than the cloned one Bishop had originally provided the scientist with), and without knowing it putting him on a new path in life...

...oh, man.

It was _his -- Michelangelo's --_ fault that Leatherhead never got to rejoin the Utroms, and that the Baxter Stockman he knew was still a bad guy!

"Excuse me," said Leatherhead, looking at Mike with some amount of anger in his eyes, "I'd like to know where you think you come from, spreading such malicious lies about my friend!"

"I don't get it," said Leo. "Just moments ago, he wouldn't shut up. What's the matter, spirit? Ran out of things to say?"

But Mike didn't answer. He couldn't bring himself to speak at all.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**Author's notes:** Well, now we're starting to see a little more in full just how different things are without Mike, and it seems like Mike's self-confidence has received an especially devastating blow here... Will he be able to recover from it?

Oh, before anyone airs the possibility of Baxter Stockman being a traitor or something like that, let me just say straight away that he isn't. He really _did_ change, for more or less the exact reasons that Mike guesses at here. He's definitely a good guy in this reality.

There are two chapters left of the story, by the way. They won't be too long in the coming -- depends a bit on how busy I get with other things, but I'm planning on having them both up within the week. Don't get too used to the speedy updates, mind -- this story is special, since all I'm doing is rewriting and revising a story that's already finished. I'm usually a _much_ slower writer.


	5. The Unfortunate Ones

* * *

**THE TURTLE WHO NEVER WAS**

**Based on _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_**  
**by Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird**

**Disclaimer: All TMNT-related characters are the property of Mirage Studios. Fine, _don't_ believe me, but it's true.**

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE:**  
**The Unfortunates**

* * *

"Interesting," said Stockman, tapping his chin thoughtfully as he looked at Mike from outside the bubble. "We have no way of confirming _or_ denying whether his claims about an alternate reality is true, but I believe it's worth finding out more about."

"You're not saying you believe him?" said Leatherhead, looking at Stockman with a mix of disbelief and suspicion. "Bax, he all but accused you of being a traitor and a villain!"

"I do wish you'd stop calling me _'Bax,'_" said Stockman, in the voice of someone who despite constant claims to the contrary didn't really mind his nickname. "My dear Leatherhead, I am aware of the mistakes I made in my past -- mistakes which I have paid for, and continue to pay for to this day. If spiritual accusations is to be a part of it, then by all means, let him say what he wishes. What is important is that I for the future avoid making the same mistakes. I do know that they say there's a fine line between genius and insanity, but I like to think I still have some rational thought left. Tell me, spirit --"

"Mike," said Mike heavily.

"Ah yes, pardon me. Mike -- you say you know me as an enemy in your reality? I suppose this means that I never went to the Utrom world there -- that was really the big turning point in my life. Had I not had that fortunate experience, I can see how I may have turned out quite different," said Stockman, demonstrating that, good or evil, he was just as much in love with the sound of his own voice as ever.

Mike just nodded, not really in the mood to comment on this. The revelation that he was to blame for the misfortunes of Leatherhead and even Stockman still stung, added by the fact that all of his brothers seemed to be doing just as well, if not better, for themselves without him. "Yeah," he said instead. "First you worked for Shredder, and then you..." He paused, deciding to skip the most painful parts. "Well, you worked for this guy named Bishop. Dunno if you know him here... Heads something called the Earth Protection Force and is obsessed with aliens."

"I think I've heard of an Agent Bishop," said Leatherhead. "The Utroms mentioned him. Do you know anything more about it, Professor Krang?" He turned to one of the Utroms, the only one in this group who hadn't said anything yet.

"Agent John Bishop?" said the Utrom, whose name was apparently Krang.

"That would be him," Mike agreed.

"Yes, we know him. I never met the man myself, but he apparently gave us quite a bit of trouble when we re-established our base here on Earth. Almost came to blows between us, but we managed to work it out. I believe he works with us now."

"Of course," said Mike with a sigh. "Of _course_ Bishop is a good guy here as well. What about the Foot Clan? They're a peace-loving and good-natured clan of philanthropists who devote their lives to research and finding a cure for the common cold, right?"

Everybody, including April, stared at him. The bubble once again wavered a little, but as the woman caught herself and began concentrating again, it returned to its original strength and shape.

"No," said Leonardo slowly and carefully, as if he believed he was talking to a crazy person. "They're a dishonorable clan of thieves and murderers."

"Oh." Well, Mike thought, _some_ things had to stay the same.

"If I may return to our original dilemma," said the Utrom whose name Mike hadn't learned, "then what are we to do with this spirit who claims to be from an alternate reality?"

"Right,"said Leo, suddenly all business again."That was why I called you here. I would have contacted Master Splinter as well, but he was going to spend the day on some spiritual retreat, and I don't want to disturb him..."

"That is very thoughtful of you, Leonardo, but in this case I would not mind being disturbed," came the voice from the other side of the room. And there was Splinter -- not the spiritual guide that had been following Mike, but the real, actual Splinter -- walking in through the door, pausing only to bow to the room's occupants. "I do apologize for intruding in this manner, but I got a call saying that I was needed here."

"Ah, Splinter," said Stockman, looking like he was trying desperately not to sound surprised. "You do have an uncanny ability to show up when needed."

"That would indeed be a useful ability," said Splinter, walking up to the bubble, "but one that I can make no claim to. As I said, I was called here."

"I didn't call you, Master," said Leo. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, of course, but --"

Splinter raised a hand, motioning for silence. "I shall explain later. My son, you have done a great disservice to this wandering spirit. He means no harm."

_No_, thought Mike glumly, _I never **meant** any harm, but it looks like I've done a lot of harm without meaning to._

"He's been spying on us, Master," said Leo. "He says that --"

"I have been told the story." Splinter smiled wearily. "But I can vouch for him. He is not evil or untrustworthy, and he is telling the truth." He turned to April. "Miss O'Neil... if you would please let him go?"

April blinked and seemed to come out of her light trance. The forcefield wavered again and vanished, and Mike found himself free again.

The effect was remarkable. It was clear that now that Mike was free again, Leo and the others couldn't see him, although by the looks on their faces, Leo and April still seemed to sense that he was there. Leatherhead, the Utroms and Stockman, however, looked like they'd just been witness to the world's most impressive vanishing act, Stockman in particular with a fascinated expression on his face, straightening his glasses and staring directly at Mike without seeing him.

"Remarkable," he said. "April, I knew you were talented, but this--"

"Thank you, _Bax_," said April, using the nickname with more than a hint of sarcasm and for a moment looking a lot more like the April Mike knew and loved.

"Master, are you sure this is wise?" said Leo to Splinter. "It's not that I don't trust your judgement..."

"Patience, Leonardo," said Splinter. "As I said, I will explain all later. For now, though... Michelangelo, if you would care to come with me?"

Mike looked at him, and was slightly surprised at himself for not being more surprised when the rat met and held his gaze. Silently, he nodded.

"Thank you," said Splinter, and then turned to the others. "Forgive me for this, but I have a rather important matter to take care of with Michelangelo. I hope you will trust me on this."

"If you say he's harmless, mister Splinter, then that's good enough for me," said the utrom Krang solemnly. "Your judgment has never been wrong before, and I for one am willing to trust it."

"I suppose I am as well," said Leatherhead. "You've helped us out too many times in the past for us to ignore your advice now."

"Thank you," said Splinter again. "I regret that I cannot take the time to explain now, but Michelangelo has someone waiting for him."

With that, he turned and motioned for the spirit to follow him. Mike, hesitating only a moment, did as requested.

* * *

"How come you can see me?" said Mike as Splinter led him down the sewer tunnel. "Nobody else can when I'm outside that bubble."

Splinter smiled. "You will learn as you grow older and get further along in your ninja training," he said, "that nothing is ever truly undetectable. The invisible becomes plain if you know how and where to look. Leonardo and Miss O'Neil have started to acquire the necessary skills for this, which is how they were able to sense you in the first place. Had they been more experienced, I am certain they would have seen and heard you just as plainly as I do now."

"Oh," said Mike. "So this means you don't really know me, huh? You can just _see_ me?"

"Yes and no," said Splinter. "I know who you are, Michelangelo, though I regret to say I do not remember you as my son."

"Then how do you --?"

"I would have thought that was obvious. I was contacted by your spirit guides. when you were unexpectedly captured, they knew they could not intervene themselves without also risking capture, but they could ask me to do it for them. They are waiting for you at the end of this tunnel."

"Oh," Mike sighed. "Do I have to?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the world's a better place without me in it. I know that now." Mike took a deep breath, "Raph is the Battle Nexus champion, much more level-headed, and a respected martial arts teacher who makes a big difference in people's lives. Shell, he even _cooks_, and _likes_ it. Don and Casey are single-handedly reducing the amount of street-level crime in New York, and seem to have fun doing it too. Leo is... still Leo, just even more, and he's got more allies and friends to call on if he needs to. April is a powerful psychic. Stockman and Bishop are good guys. Leatherhead gets to live with the Utroms and probably doesn't have that 'berserker' thing going for him either."

Splinter listened to his rant. "And such is not the case back in the world you know, I take it."

"No, because in the world I know, I wasn't there to ruin everybody's lives for them," said Mike bitterly. "And the worst part is," he added, "Shredder's gonna _gloat_ when I tell him he was right!"

"I think you are being very harsh on yourself," said Splinter.

"Harsh? I've just gotten the _proof! _I mess up everything! Everything's worse with me around!"

Splinter shook his head. "I am certain this is not so. But even if it _was_... Michelangelo, I have three sons. And I would not, for anything in the world, have given up any of them. Even if they had not made the accomplishments they have, I would not have wanted to be without any of them. The Splinter in your world feels the same way about his _four_ sons. As do the Leonardo, Donatello and Raphael in your world."

"How do you know that?"

"Because that is what makes a family, Michelangelo." The rat smiled. "Tell me, is there any of your brothers you could look at and honestly say you'd rather have been without, that you would have been better off if he had never existed?"

"What? _No!"_ said Mike, horrified at the idea. "But that's not the same!"

"You think not?"

"Well, _look_ at them! They..."Mike sighed. "They're the ones who _matter_. They do things that really makes a difference. And they've made so many lives better. What have _I_ ever done apart from making a fool out of myself and telling a lotta jokes?"

"I am glad you have finally seen sense," said Shredder, who all of a sudden appeared right next to Mike.

"Gyah!" Mike yelped, taking a jump back. "Don't _do_ that! I thought you were waiting at the end of the tunnel!"

"I didn't want to miss your big confession," said Shredder. "I must say you disappoint me, though. That is without question the most whiny and pathetic confession I have ever heard."

"Are you being a complete idiot and jerk on _purpose_ or something?" said Mike. "You won! Everyone is better off without me! What more do you want?"

By this time, Shredder had been joined by the other Splinter, the spirit one, who was standing next to his more tangible counterpart, looking so much like him that it was hard to tell them apart when they were standing so close... but on closer inspection, the spirit did have a slightly different feel to him, perhaps a somewhat more, uh airy quality to him.

"Can you think of no instance where you made a positive difference, Michelangelo?" said Splinter the spirit.

"I kinda thought I had with Leatherhead," Mike muttered. "But turns out that was just another blunder."

"There are others," the spirit-Splinter said. "Who are you forgetting?"

"Silver Sentry?" said Mike. "Why'd he need me for anything? Really? He's a big superhero. The one time I did help him out, I mean really helped, it was just against some freaky mind-control bug. Every superhero gets mind-controlled at some point in their career and they all manage to get out of it somehow."

"Silver Sentry?" said the tangible Splinter, raising a furry brow. "The superhero? I remember that scandal. It was all over the news some time ago."

"Scandal?" said Mike, blinking.

"Yes, it was a most unfortunate situation."

"Unfortunate --?"

"Perhaps," said the spirit-Splinter gently, "I should show you." With that, he waved a hand, and once more, the air went all blurry as images started to play out in front of them.

* * *

As in a movie, Mike saw the Silver Sentry fly across the sky, graceful and swift as always, but... Mike squinted to make out the details in the blurry image. Was it just his imagination, or did the superhero have a sort of _blank_ look on his face?

Mike remembered it from before, how the supervillain Dr. Malignus had used his freakish mind-control bugs to take over the minds of a good deal of innocent people and made them do his bidding. He'd managed to get to Silver Sentry as well, but Mike had, in his newly invented "Turtle Titan" identity, managed to remove the mind-control bug from the back of Silver Sentry's neck, where it had attached itself to control him -- and one superhero team-up later, Dr. Malignus had been defeated and taken to jail.

It looked like Malignus had succeeded in taking Silver Sentry over, and without Mike there to remove the mind-control bug in time, it seemed like the mind-control had lasted for long enough that the superhero actually managed to get out and...

Mike froze. Silver Sentry had landed in the middle of the street, and was now surrounded by a number of armed policemen, all of whom were pointing guns at him.

"Silver Sentry," one of them called, looking both nervous and upset at once (probably a fellow Silver Sentry fan, Mike guessed). "Give yourself up! There are too many witnesses to your current crime spree for you to wiggle out of this one, but if you come quietly now, all the services you've done for the world are sure to --"

Silver Sentry didn't answer. Instead, he flew directly at the policeman, so fast that nobody could react, slamming into him with both fists and flinging him down to the ground with a loud _CRASH._ The other policemen, obviously shocked, began firing their guns, but the superhero didn't even seem to notice the bullets as they bounced harmlessly off him...

But all of a sudden, he straightened himself and let out a loud scream, so powerful that most of the policemen instinctively stopped shooting and covered their ears. Almost invisible to the naked eye, the mind-control bug on Silver Sentry's neck fell off, having been hit by one of the bullets.

"No..." said Silver Sentry, staring in horror at the policeman he had knocked down, and falling to his knees. "Please, no...!"

The policeman lay still, not moving or breathing.

* * *

"There was nothing to be done for the policeman," said spirit-Splinter solemnly as the image faded away. "He was already dead. Silver Sentry never recovered from this. He had broken his most solemn oath and taken a life -- not of his own free will, admittedly, and he was let off by the police force after the story with the mind control devices came out, but he could not continue as a superhero after what had transpired. A short time after, he put away his costume for good and vanished from the public eye. No-one knows where he is now."

"What?" said Mike. "But -- but he's a hero! He did so much good for, for _everyone_! And that mind control thing totally wasn't even his fault! He shouldn't give up just because..." he trailed off as the others looked at him. "Okay, I get it. I'm giving up, just like he did, huh?"

"The parallel did strike me as obvious," said Shredder dryly. "Of course, the difference is that while Silver Sentry did make a huge difference before he gave up, and would have gone on to make a huge difference if he _hadn't_ given up, _you_... well, you are quite worthless either way."

"But..." Mike's mind was swimming with the sudden revelation. Silver Sentry had stopped being a superhero because Mike hadn't been there to get rid of the mind-control bug. A policeman had died. Who knew how many other lives might have been lost because Silver Sentry was no longer around to save them?

But then again, who knew how many lives were saved because Baxter Stockman and Bishop were good guys now? Or because Raph was showing potential juvenile deliquents a better way, or Casey or Don were taking out more Purple Dragons and other criminals than in the world Mike knew? Not to mention all his family seeming more successful and even better off without him. Could you really compare the two situations in a fair way?

"I... this suddenly got a whole lot more complicated," Mike murmured.

"If you're thinking about that policeman," said Shredder, "policemen are a dime a dozen, and it's not unheard of that one of them dies on duty. And most of the so-called lives that were saved by Silver Sentry were more or less like you yourself -- quite without any meaning or worth. Compared to saving an entire world from the likes of the Utrom Shredder, or saving the entire city of New York, feats that your brothers accomplished just fine without you, that's absolutely nothing."

Mike rubbed his head. "I didn't even know that policeman. I mean, I didn't set out to save him, or... well, I just kinda blundered into it. But, you can't say it didn't matter that he died. I mean, he musta had people who loved him."

"They got over it. They all knew there was a risk anyway." Shredder's voice was deadpan.

"Maybe -- " Mike began. And then he stopped. And stared.

In front of him, the air had begun shimmering again, and another scene was playing out; a winter scene on the streets of New York -- as far as Mike could judge, not far from where the unfortunate policeman had met his end in the earlier vision. In an alleyway, half-buried under piles of snow, a small shape lay unmoving. A small shape with tabby-patterned ginger fur...

_"Klunk!"_ Mike cried. How could he have forgotten his cat?! He tried to reach out for the kitten -- but of course, it was only an image in the air, and his hands went straight through.

"There is nothing to be done for him either, Michelangelo," said spirit-Splinter softly as the image faded. "Because you were not there to take him in that Christmas, he suffered the fate of so many alley cats. The cold and hunger was too much for him, and he died shortly before New Year's Eve. Nobody bothered to even take notice of him."

Mike couldn't answer. His throat felt like it was trying to close up, and his eyes grew misty as he fought to stop the tears. The image of his beloved pet lying there in the snow, not even allowed to grow up to become an adult cat, because nobody had taken an interest in him...

"Oh, _please_," said Shredder. "He saved the life of a worthless cat? As if there weren't too many cats in New York already! That kitten didn't make one bit of difference --"

That was when Mike hit him. For the first time during this entire bizarre experience, Mike well and truly lost his temper, and hit Shredder with such force that the armored man flew through the air and landed on his back.

"That's _my cat_ you're talking about!" Mike hissed. "Klunk might not ever discover the cure for cancer or save the planet from aliens, but he's still the _best cat in the world_, and if _he's_ not around, then I say the world is poorer for it!"

The two Splinters exchanged glances and then nodded.

"Michelangelo," said the tangible Splinter. "I am proud to call you my son."

And then, without warning, the world began spinning again.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Yes, I used the name Krang here, but it's obviously not the villainous Krang from the first TMNT cartoon. For those of you who don't remember, an Utrom named Krang made a blink-and-you'll-miss-it appearance (he was the one who complained that he hated walking on his tentacles and was promptly told "shut up, Krang!") in the 2003 cartoon, as one of the cartoon series' many nods and references to previous incarnations of the Turtles. I just thought it would be funny to include him in a little cameo here.

As for Klunk, I thought this particular twist was pretty obvious. Who'd have taken the cat in if Mike hadn't? (Speaking of Klunk, I keep hearing this thing about him being female in the 2003 toon, most likely based on the Back to the Sewers revamped character designs. It doesn't really matter one way or the other to me, but since I know that Klunk was definitely a male in the Mirage comic, and I have always written him as male when he showed up in my fanfics, I'll keep on referring to him as a male until I get some kind of final proof that he's intended to be a girl in the cartoon.)

Next chapter's the last, so that's where everything will be summed up, and hopefully the last few lingering questions will be answered. Hope you've enjoyed the story!


	6. The Turtle who Never Was

* * *

**THE TURTLE WHO NEVER WAS**

**Based on _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_**  
**by Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird**

**Disclaimer: All TMNT-related characters are the property of Snookums, a German Shepherd belonging to Mrs. Barbara Smith from Ohio. **  
**...juuuust kidding! They're _really_ the property of Mirage Studios,**

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX:**  
**The Turtle who Never Was**

* * *

Michelangelo's eyes snapped open, and he stared up at the ceiling.

It was dark around him, but he was lying down on a fairly soft and comfortable surface, underneath a warm blanket, but even through the darkness he was just able to make out that familiar crack in the wall that he'd woken up to every mornning for a long time now.

For one long moment, he had no idea where he was or what had happened. Then, everything came back to him: Shredder and Splinter, the world without a Mike, the different fates of everyone there... Klunk. _Klunk! _

He reached out for the light switch. With an audible _click_ the room went from dark to light, and Mike sat straight up in his bed, discovering to his immense relief that it _was_ his bed, and the room he was in was his room. All his things were there; from the autographed picture of Silver Sentry on the wall to the toy mouse on the floor that originally belonged to Klunk but had moved into Mike's room when it became clear that Klunk thought it was much more fun with a simple piece of paper on a string.

"Whoa," said Mike. He tossed the blanket aside, and his hand didn't go straight through but instead flung the entire thing away and across the room, where it spread neatly over the huge pile of _Justice Force_ comics that Mike had promised Splinter he'd tidy up as soon as he felt better.

"I'm back," he said breathlessly. "I exist again! Klunk -- gotta find Klunk!" He jumped out of bed... and then found, to his surprise, that while his feet definitely made a sound against the floor this time, and he was unmistakably solid and tangible, he didn't feel sick anymore. His muscles didn't ache, his head felt clear, and his fever seemed to have vanished.

_Huh_, he thought. _Looks like I just discovered the ultimate cure for the flu -- a trip to another world where you were never born. _He paused for a moment, then shook his head. _Nah, it'll never catch on. _Pushing the thought aside, he rushed out of his room.

The living room was dark as well, but when Mike switched on the light, the first thing he saw was Klunk, lying on the couch and sleeping peacefully. In two seconds flat, Mike was over by the couch and scooped the cat up in his arms. "Klunk! Buddy! You okay? Come to daddy!" he said, holding him close.

"Mrrow?" said Klunk, obviously sleepy and confused as to why his "daddy" was suddenly acting like this.

"I'm the luckiest Turtle in the world to have a cat like you!" said Mike while cuddling him. "I know I don't say this enough, but I love ya, boy! I'm so glad I've got you!"

Klunk didn't seem to have the faintest idea what Mike was talking about, but slowly started to purr as he was being petted.

"What are you doin' out of bed?" said Raphael, stumbling into the living room and looking about as sleepy as Klunk. "Geez, Mikey, what's _with_ you? All day you drive us bonkers with your _'poor me, I'm sick'_ routine, then ya finally fall asleep, and then when the rest of us try ta get some shut-eye as well, you decide to get up at -- " he glanced at the clock -- "five in the morning to declare your love for the cat?!"

"Raph!" said Mike, turning around to face his brother, still with Klunk in his arms. "You can see me! You know who I am!"

Raph just stared at him. "...Huh?!"

"Raph, you know something?!" said Mike. "You woulda made an _awesome_ Battle Nexus champion!"

"...Huh?!" said Raph again.

"Yeah! You could start a martial arts school for children or something. Oh, and I can give you cooking lessons if ya want!"

"All right. Fine. Whatever. Look, you're sleepwalkin' or hallucinatin' or something." Raph walked up to Mike and gently grabbed his shoulder, turning him around to face his bedroom door. "Why don't ya go back to bed, and we can talk more about, uh, martial arts cooking lessons tomorrow."

"No, you don't understand!" Mike insisted. "I just totally had an '_It's A Wonderful Life'_ experience! Leo! Don!" he exclaimed as said two emerged from their rooms as well, looking halfway confused and halfway annoyed. "You gotta hear this!"

"What's going on now?" said Leo. "Mike, are you --?"

"You called me Mike!" said Mike. "Don, Raph, you both heard it! He called me Mike!"

"Uh, yeah, how about that," said Raph in what he probably intended to be a soothing voice. "Callin' you by your name and everything. Who'da thunk it? Never saw that one coming at all."

Don turned to Leo. "I think we'd better get Master Splinter," he said. "It appears that Mike's gone cuckoo."

"I dunno why I'm surprised," Raph muttered. "I've been waiting for this moment for years."

* * *

In the end, he told them the entire story.

It took the better part of an hour, but Mike discovered that he had their attentions for the most of it -- particularly Splinter was paying rapt attention, even shushing Raph, Don and Leo on the few occasions when they tried to interrupt.

"And then, I realized I was back in my own bed," Mike finished, "and after having seen Klunk die in that other world I just knew I had to go and check if he was okay. Which, thankfully, he was." He gazed fondly at the cat who had curled up next to him and fallen asleep again. "And then Raph came and was sarcastic, and, well, you know the rest. So... that's the story!"

There was a long moment of silence.

"Well," Leo finally said. "That's some dream, all right."

"It wasn't a dream!" said Mike, feeling a little insulted. "It was too _real_ to be a dream! I don't know if I was in an alternate world, or the world really changed, or _what_ exactly happened, but it _wasn't_ a dream!"

"Get real, Mike," said Raph. "It was a freaky dream that your flu left you as a farewell present."

"Probably brought forward by the fact that you felt poorly treated and unwanted before you fell asleep," Don supplied.

"Which you really shouldn't," Leo added. "I'm sorry if we hurt your feelings, Mike, but you _had_ been getting on our nerves all day. It doesn't mean we don't want you around! No point in letting a silly little dream --"

"It wasn't a dream," Mike repeated stubbornly.

"Yes, it was," said Leo. "There's no other explanation for it, and you know why? Because there's no possible way there's a world out there where you don't exist and this family is better off for it. Mike, we _need_ you! All right, maybe you bug the shell out of us sometimes -- or a lot of times -- but, come on! Which of us can say that he _doesn't_ occasionally get on the nerves of everyone else?"

"Yeah, take Leo, for instance," Raph said with a smirk. "He keeps playin' teacher's pet and nags everyone half ta death at least once a day."

"And Raph keeps flying off the deep end and going off on his own and endangering us all," Leo shot back, though without much bite to it.

"And I tend to lock myself away with my inventions and research and computers and ignore everyone else," said Don peaceably. "If it hadn't been for you, Mike, I'd probably never even have left my lab. You're the one who keeps dragging me out of there and forcing me to socialize -- and at the end of the day, I have to admit that usually I'm happier for it."

"Right," said Leo seriously. "If it hadn't been for you, we'd all have just given up on each other a long time ago, and just gone our different ways. So will you _please_ admit that it was all just a stupid dream and couldn't possibly have happened?"

Mike opened his mouth to repeat that it hadn't been a dream, when Splinter placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Please leave us alone for a while, my sons," said the rat, looking at the other three Turtles. "Try to go back to sleep. We will talk more in the morning."

"Technically, it _is_ the morning now," said Don, glancing at the clock, which had now just passed six AM.

"Hey, since we've been sittin' here and listenin' ta Mike's story for almost an hour," said Raph, "does that mean we get to skip the nine o'clock morning practice? Just askin'," he added hurriedly at Splinter's look.

Leo stood up without a word and left for his room. Of course, Mike thought, Leo usually got up around this time, so he was clearly just pretending to go back to bed so that Mike and Splinter could talk in private. It was a nice gesture, if wholly transparent, and Raph and Don quickly followed suit, raising themselves and retreating to their own rooms.

Mike waited until the room was silent, save for the soft purring of Klunk, before speaking again. "Master Splinter, I really don't think it was a dream."

"Perhaps it was not," said Splinter. "It may have been that your spirit crossed over to a different world, or it may have been a vivid illusion. It may even have been that the world temporarily did change, although I am less certain of that. I cannot recall any of it happening, at least. But I do not think it matters all that much. No matter where the spirit counterparts of Shredder and myself came from -- be it some other realm or simply your own subconscious -- they still had something important to tell you."

"'_Everyone matter, for worse or for better,'_ huh?"

"That is one way of putting it," said Splinter, obviously not getting the reference to Kermit the Frog. "But I do not think you quite see all the ways this was shown to you. Examine the story you told us a little further. Does nothing trike you as peculiar there?"

"Ya mean apart from Stockman being a good guy, or Raph cooking, or --"

"Nothing so specific, Michelangelo." Splinter's look was serious. "What I was thinking about was the situation of our family. Even though your brothers in that reality were making the best of their lives, they did lack something very important that you and your brothers do have, and always have had. Leonardo even touched upon the subject when he was trying to concvince you that it was a dream, though I doubt he actually realized all the implications."

"What are you talking about, Master?" said Mike.

"Trust," said Splinter. "Being able to trust one's family members not only to be there for one, but also being able to trust them to do the right thing, to handle themselves. I do not know the alternate Leonardo, the one who trapped you, but his actions as you described them seemed to be rooted in a basic lack of trust in others. Since he learned of your presence in the manner he did, my guess is that the Leonardo in that reality has taken it upon himself to 'keep an eye' on his brothers, obviously without their knowledge."

"He was spying on them?"

"Effectively, yes." Splinter met Michelangelo's eyes. "Without you to act as a catalyst between him, Raphael and Donatello, I believe that the Leonardo of that reality was not able to get close enough to his brothers that he ever learned to completely trust them. I do not think it was a coincidence that your brothers, in this alternate reality, did not appear together, as a team. They were _not_ a team, not in the way you and your brothers are."

"But.. they were doing really well apart," said Mike.

"They had their successes, but they also had their fair share of failures," said Splinter. "Even if they were not as immediately obvious to you. I wonder what the _real_ story behind April O'Neil was, for instance. Leonardo was clearly not telling you everything."

Mike nodded slowly. The other Leo had said mainly that some Utrom had "discovered" that April was a latent psionicist, and that other Utroms had taught her to unlock her potential, but he hadn't explained the different hair or the tattoos. There had only been a vague sensation that something deeply unpleasant had taken place... What had really happened there? He might never know for sure.

"And there was Silver Sentry, and Klunk..." he mused, comforting himself a little by giving the purring cat an extra few scratches behind the ears. "Yeah. All in all, I wouldn't swap. Still feeling a little guilty about Stockman and Leatherhead, though. Y'know, it's kinda weird, but when those two spirits came to take me to that other world, I sorta thought it would be like in all those movies. You know, when the guy finds out that everything is much worse without him."

"That is hardly realistic," said Splinter. "I doubt you would find anyone in this world, or any other, who has not made his fair share of bad decisions or suffered his share of bad luck that affected others in a negative way. We cannot change the past. We can, however, change the future."

"Yeah," said Mike, suddenly remembering an extra detail from the Mike-less reality. "That was more or less exactly what the alternate Stockman said too! He said he'd made a lot of mistakes in the past, but that all he could do was to try avoiding making the same mistakes in the future."

Splinter nodded.

"Okay," said Mike, suddenly feeling much more cheerful. "If _he_ could manage that, then so can _I! _There were tons of stuff in that other reality that were better than here, but now that I've seen it, I got the ideas, and I can help others out realizing their potential! That idea of a martial arts school was good, for example, I could see if there's any way I could do something similar in this reality! I could talk to Angel, and hear what she thinks? Uh, what do _you_ think?"

"You are _not_ to invite a whole group of human teenagers down here, Michelangelo," said Splinter firmly. "However, I see nothing wrong with providing a somewhat more wholesome alternative to the Purple Dragons and other street gangs."

"Cool! I'll have to think some more about that. Maybe Raph would like to help, and maybe I can talk to April and Casey, and Donny could... uh, Master Splinter?"

"Yes?"

"Did you just wink?"

"Wink?"

"It just looked like you were winking to someone."

Splinter chuckled. "I believe I told you, in that other world, that the invisible becomes plain if you know how and where to look. Whatever else changed between the two realities, this has not. See for yourself."

Mike glanced around the room, not quite sure what he was looking for, but then he could make out... it was hard to say exactly how it happened, but all of a sudden he could have sworn he saw the faint forms of the spirits Splinter and Shredder, both waving to him before they vanished.

* * *

On a slightly different plane, unseen and unheard by almost everyone but still capable of seeing and hearing everything around them, two spirits returned the physical Splinter's wink and took an extra moment to wave to Michelangelo as he, just for a moment, managed to see them clearly.

There was a definite look of confusion on the Turtle's face, but also a sense of joy and triumph as he waved back.

"And of course, he hasn't so much as realized that he has made the choice," said Shredder, as the two spirits turned and walked out of the Lair. "He probably still thinks that the choice he was to make was whether he was to live or die."

"It is as it should be," said Splinter. "He chose well, as I knew he would."

You do realize," said Shredder, not without a hint of amusement in his voice, "that we are still talking to each other as if we were two different persons, even if there is no-one present to uphold the deception for?"

"Indeed," said Splinter. "In my -- well, in _our_ defense, this 'appearing as two separate beings' deception can be difficult to let go of, once you get used to it."

And as they vanished from the sight even of the keen eye and perceptions of Splinter, his spirit counterpart and the spirit counterpart of Shredder merged together to become one single spirit. For a moment, this spirit looked like a bizarre mix of rat and man, but then it changed, took on other and definitely more turtle-like qualities.

The spirit took flight, moving up through the ground and to the surface, where the sun had risen and New York was getting ready for a new day. The turtle spirit looked wistfully at the cars and people moving about before flying further up, above the highest rooftops and up in the clouds.

"I have done what I could," it said to itself in a decidedly female voice. "It will be up to Michelangelo now. Hopefully Master Splinter will manage to temper his enthusiasm enough that he does not try to do _too_ much, in _too_ short a time span.... and that he will not make the same mistakes I did."

Once upon a time, in a reality very much like this one, the Turtle named Mei Pieh Chi and affectionately nicknamed Venus de Milo, had temporarily been a part of a team of Ninja Turtles, sister to the other Turtles and the only female mutant turtle in existence.

It had only lasted for a short time. She had been part of a flux of reality, a "freak of fate," if such a term could be used, and it didn't take long before reality had realized its mistake and erased her. She had never existed and would never exist, and as a result, reality had... changed.

Only through sheer force of will had Venus managed to hang on to some minor form of being, continuing on as a wandering spirit, a non-corporal being without a world, a home, or even a proper body to call her own.

She could still, however, make a difference, put her mark on the world, even if it was in small ways.

Venus allowed herself a small smile. Even back in her own world, when she had existed, she had always secretly thought that Michelangelo was the Turtle with the most potential -- potential he kept wasting because he was too lazy, too irresponsible, too flighty to make good use of it. Venus had always been able to see -- and even more so, since she became a wandering spirit and began travelling between worlds -- that inside the immature and childish goofball there lived a person -- a caring, compassionate, creative and talented person -- who really _did_ have the power to change the world around him, if he would just assert himself a little more.

Sometimes he just needed a little push in the right direction, or to get some perspective on things.

And if she had managed to give him that... then she had managed to make a difference, despite never having really existed at all. Sometimes all it took would be a subtle (or not) guiding hand...

Nodding to herself with some feeling of satisfaction, Venus picked up speed and flew higher and higher until the world vanished below her.

* * *

**THE (ever-lovin', blue-eyed) END!**

* * *

**Author's notes: ** And we're done! For those of you who don't remember, Venus de Milo was a character in the _Ninja Turtles: Next Mutation _live-action TV show from 1997. Fans did not take well to her, and after _Next Mutation_ ended (it only lasted for one season) she was eventually declaired non-canonical, her existence was retconned away and all references to her were dropped from all official sources.

ll answer the question before anyone thinks of asking it: Why didn't Venus appear as herself in front of Mike? Why this Splinter/Shredder act?

Well, for one thing -- think about how Mike acted around Venus in _Next Mutation_: constantly hitting on and flirting with her. Venus here was trying to prove a point, but she would have had a harder time doing so if Mike had kept calling her "babe" and "mutant hottie." (I actually don't think he would have, since the Michelangelo of the 2003 cartoon is hardly the "horny teenager" his _Next Mutation_ counterpart was, but Venus didn't want to take any risks.)

For another thing, the "Shredder" act was done deliberately to provoke a reaction; look at how it's "Shredder's" trash-talking on Klunk that finally snaps Mike out of his funk and gets him to take a firm stand. In fact, looking at the things "Shredder" says in that scene, and everywhere else in the fic, a lot of it doesn't hold up to closer examination. Look at his speech after the "Silver Sentry" scene: One moment, he says that Silver Sentry made a big difference before _and_ after the adventure with the mind-control bugs, but then the next moment he goes on to say that most of the people the superhero rescued afterwards didn't matter in the last. Come on, either Silver Sentry _did_ make a difference, or he _didn't!_ But "Shredder" was just out to provoke, and the statements didn't need to make any sense as long as they had their desired effect.

But of course, if Shredder had been the only "guide" on the alternate reality trip, it couldn't realistically have played out the way it did. A second spirit was needed -- one that would be there to be supportive and make sure to point out some important things that Mike might have missed otherwise. Hence, the "Splinter" identity.

No, I don't know where Venus learned to do all that. Let's just say she's been a spirit for a long time and has worked out how to do a lot of neat things.

Final note: In case you, like Splinter, missed the obvious reference: _"Everyone matters, for worse or for better"_ was what Kermit the Frog sang in his own I_t's A Wonderful Life_-spoof, _It's A Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie._

And that's it for this story.


End file.
